


through the fire & the flood

by cinnabun



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Magic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 01:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14226477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnabun/pseuds/cinnabun
Summary: No relationship is perfect.{ 3k One-Shot Commission - Grillby/Reader Angst with a Happy Ending for matronofthevoid on tumblr }





	through the fire & the flood

Grillby wasn’t a scary guy.

It wasn’t often that he got mad, but when he did his personality didn’t shift that much. Contrary to popular belief he was not, as Sans would put it, a “hot head.” For a fire elemental, he was surprisingly cool when handling stressful situations.

But then came today, the day when everything went to shit.

It’d been just your luck that your neighbor’s kids had decided that today was the perfect today to blast their game console’s volume to the max. Which was all fine and good, you were used to noisy neighbors. But it was seven in the morning. Which was less good.

The sounds of gunfire, yelling, and explosions pummeled your ears every few seconds, the chaos interrupted only with the shrieks of the brats causing it.

At first, it hadn’t been that bad. Grillby was in the bathroom, getting dressed, while you tried to occupy yourself by countering the explosions with your music. Even with the skull-rattling rhythm you had funneling throughout the apartment, the chaos from across the hall continued to filter in through the paper-thin walls. Now you had a migraine.

Then, without warning, you heard a crash from the bedroom.

It caught your attention. Your boyfriend was the “strong, but silent” type, hardly making any noise as he moved around the house. He’d made you jump on more than one occasion thanks to his light footsteps and soft voice.

Slowly, you turned off the music. Muffled explosions still blasted through the walls, but with the absence of your own noise, everything felt much tenser. There was another clatter and you jumped a bit at the sound of shattering glass.

“Grillby?” You crept down the hallway, a prickle running over your skin. Something felt off. “Honey…?”

The heat was the first thing you felt.

It crashed over you like a tidal wave. On instinct, you stumbled back, arms held up as if to try and shield yourself. No difference was made, and the closer you got to the bedroom, the more it felt like you were approaching a roaring furnace. Shaking, you slowly opened the door.

You stifled a scream at the sight. Flames roared like a bonfire from a central point, the waves licking so high that they almost scorched the ceiling. Red, orange, and yellow all danced together amidst the plumes of soft purple and green smoke that filled the room. The heat you’d felt before was nothing compared to this.

You weren’t just approaching a wildfire, you were in the eye of one.

Just barely, you could make out a silhouette in the middle. A bright white blob that pulsed and danced within the wisps, trembling and shaking from it’s point on the floor. It took you a moment to realize that you were looking at Grillby, curled up on his side, in full defensive mode.

“Grillby!” You called again, nearly yelling to be heard over the roar of the crackling flames. Your first instinct was to run for water, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Water would kill him. But you had to do something, or else he was going to take the entire apartment down with him.

Already you could hear the floor groaning at the ashes and embers ate away at the linoleum, the walls peeling from the heat, and black smattering the ceiling. You burst into the kitchen, looking wildly for something, anything, to help.

Then you saw it.

A large, magic, heat resistant blanket. You’d gotten it for him as an anniversary gift, as most quilts and blankets hardly survived a week in his care. The smoke made your eyes tear up, but you rushed to yank it into your arms, jumping at the shriek of the fire alarm going off.

It all surrounded you: the heat, the smoke, the ear-splitting screech. Your hands trembled, mind swirling. You felt like you were going to throw up. Despite it, and the quaking in your legs, you forced your way back to the bedroom, holding the blanket up like a shield. The heat pressed against it but didn’t sink through. It would work.

Grillby hardly moved when you threw yourself on top of him, covering the white-hot shape from head-to-toe with the blanket. He quivered and jerked beneath you, ragged breaths slowly rising as the pops and crackles began to subside. The blanket was cool beneath your hands, and you hoped that he was feeling the same thing.

He shifted gently, and you slowly pulled back, scooting across the charred carpet to give him a reasonable amount of room. The smoke still lingered, but the fire was entirely gone. Above you, the fire alarm still screamed in protest.

You jumped when the blanket shifted, slipping down to reveal Grillby’s face. He looked almost ethereal, still solid white. If you weren’t so scared, you would have thought him beautiful.

“Grillby…” Your throat felt raw from the screaming, pained by the ash in the air. “What the hell…happened?”

The white form flickered, just barely. Even though the rest of his body seemed to melt together, you could still make out his eyes, fuzzy, blinking warily. He looked so confused and frightened. Your heart ached. Instinctively, you reached out, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His eyes widened, and for a moment, you saw his lips curl back to bare his fangs.

There was a blur of pressure—then you felt the shove.

He’d lashed out so suddenly that you didn’t even feel it at first. Grillby’s eyes rolled back, his body extinguishing from white to orange with a soft hiss as he toppled to the floor, unconscious.

For a moment, you laid on your back, staring shell-shocked at the ceiling. Then, the ache began to creep in.

It was slow at first, but built faster than you could keep up with. Cradling your face did nothing to soothe the pain. If anything, it made it worse. Your hands pulled away, melting flesh clinging to your charred palms.

You didn’t even have the time to scream as the world tilted and the ground rose up to meet your falling body. By the time your head made contact with the carpet, everything had gone dark.

❤ ❤ ❤

He woke up with a sudden shock of fear and anxiety. His flames danced, stretching like the limbs of trees, searching the area for an unseen threat. But there was nothing. The blanket cocooned his body, yet he felt a coolness near his face. A fan sat nearby, light blue tinted, glittering smoke pooling through the air. It smelled sweet, like sugar. Slowly, the aromatherapy sank in, calming his nerves and aiding his focus.

Right. He was home. Sleeping on the couch.

When had he fallen asleep again?

Think back. Woke up. Got ready for work. Noise. Sudden, loud noise. Continuous noise. Gunshots, bombs, screaming. His sight glazed with red. Then.

Waking up. Here.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary. The windows were open, allowing a few warm sunbeams to grace the kitchen. Aside from the odd smoky scent that hung in the air, it was a simple, tranquil scene.

Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Call it intuition. For someone who had lived as long as him and had been through all that he had, sensing a shift in the air was almost second-nature. And this felt bad. Very bad.

You sat at the nearby table, a cup of steaming coffee between your hands, head bowed. Something about your posture made him feel sick.

He was on his feet in moments, crossing the distance between you both with hesitant, slow steps. The air felt heavy, like it did when someone accidentally stepped on one of the Dog Guards’ tails. Or when a fight was about to break out. His fight-or-flight response burned in the back of his mind as he clenched his fists to bite back the threat of blooming sparks.

“…What happened?” When you flinched, he felt even worse. A deep, sickening feeling roiled within his veins. His hands squeezed by his sides. If he had skin, his knuckles would be white. But the only indication he received of his discomfort was the growing heat that burned in his palms.

You didn’t reply, idly stirring the spoon in your mug in slow, lazy circles. Grillby grit his teeth and slid into the chair across from you. From this angle he couldn’t quite see your face, the hair hanging over one side just enough to block it from view. But from what he could see, you’d been crying. Your visible eye was ringed with red, still watering, and your lower lip poked out in an obvious pout.

He spoke your name, softly. You glanced up then, meeting his gaze just briefly, before it dropped back to your cup. His hand trembled as he reached out to take your hand. “What’s wrong?”

You recoiled like he’d burned you. For a moment, he was worried that he had, checking his palms for any sign of dancing embers. But no, his hands just hung there, shaking ever-so-slightly from the jolt of anxiety coursing through his system. Your gaze was frozen in a mixture of fear and agony. You looked so scared of him.

Panic began to bubble under the surface, but before he could search for the right words to say, you smiled at him, a forced, strained smile that made him feel even worse.

“Everything’s fine, Grillby. It was an accident.”

A cold pit formed in the fire elemental’s stomach. “What happened?”

You shook your head, pulling your coffee closer. Now that he was closer, Grillby could see that it was cold, and had been for some time.

He shifted towards you, kneeling at your lap. Gently, he folded your palms together between his own, willing a small burst of warmth to calm your nerves. Even so, you still shivered. Your palms were so clammy, and the tremble in your hands so unlike how you usually reacted to his heat.

Grillby was not a scary man, but when it came to you, he was so easily frightened.

“Please,” he begged in a soft voice. His flames crackled anxiously, the heat beginning to build up again in his core. “Please look at me.”

“It was an accident.” You repeated, leaning away from his outstretched fingers. Your eyes looked so haunted, your smile so sad. “It was just an accident.”

“What is?” He pressed, stroking a tender thumb across your cheek. “Let me fix it.”

Your chuckle was dry, bitter, and oh-so-sad. “This…this isn’t something you can fix Grillby.”

Then you looked up at him and the world came crashing to a halt.

The burn was horrendous. Your left profile, from forehead to chin, was coated in marred, broiling skin. Angry red patches that melted together. Like a vision from a horror film. Your left eye shimmered within the burnt folds, coated with a thin, milky blue veil. He could see your teeth from where the fire had eaten away at the flesh of your cheeks.

His stomach lurched.

“Please don’t be mad.” You begged, reaching out for him as he stumbled back. “It was an accident. I got too close. You were so scared. It was just an accident.”

Grillby turned and dashed into the kitchen. He made it to the sink just before the retching began.

Molten liquid poured from his lips, coating the inside of the drain with a black and orange layer of bubbling lava. It burned. It burned so badly. But he couldn’t stop it. Every time he thought the waves were going to die down, he’d remember that heartbroken, shameful look on your face, and the gagging would start all over again.

The sobs mixed with the wracking shudders of his frame, choking him with vomit, tears, and drool. It was all liquid fire, putrid shades of yellow, white, and red. It looked like his insides were melting, pouring out in gushes to eat him away from the inside out.

Good. He hoped it did.

He hoped it killed him.

Over the pounding in his ears, he still heard you calling his name. Pleading for his forgiveness. Placing all the blame on yourself.

It was too much. Grillby crumpled to his knees, choking back the bitterness of the leftover lava that drooled down his chin, his eyes cloudy with tears. What had he done to you?

What kind of Monster was he?

One undeserving of your forgiveness, obviously. Even now, all he wished for was the shattering of his SOUL. The ending of his pain. The stop to his misery.

But that would be too merciful, wouldn’t it? He deserved to suffer in his last moments.

You trembled when he crawled to you, clutching your knees, the fabric of your pants eaten away by the molten streaks rolling down his face.

“Please…,” he gasped, head pressed to the carpet. Each droplet that rolled from his eyes landed below with a sizzling hiss. “Please…”

What was he pleading for? Forgiveness? Death? Both? His thoughts were aimless, a jumbled chaotic mess of regret and self-loathing.

Under your touch, he shivered, willing himself to dissipate beneath your fingers. To turn to steam, warming you, but no longer harming you. But he didn’t. Your fingertips continued to stroke through the flickering wildfire that was his “hair,” the strands of heat as smooth and gentle as silk against your skin.

“Grillby.” You whispered, “I’m so sorry that I scared you. I didn’t know what to do, seeing you like that.”

He didn’t know what you were talking about, all he knew is that it made him feel even more terrible. “Don’t be…I…I don’t deserve…to continue…”

Your nails were like claws, digging into his shoulders. He accepted the stings of pain, only meeting your gaze when you forced him to, a finger gently guiding his chin up. “Don’t you say that. You were in a dangerous situation, I shouldn’t have tried to handle it on my own. I should have called for help. I’m sure there’s someone who knows about this more than I do. I was reckless. But you were scared. I’m not angry.”

The tears sprang forth anew with your words. “I just wish I could have been more helpful.”

Grillby slumped into your lap, clutching the fabric of your clothing as he sobbed. The sting of tears biting into the back of his head let him know that you were doing the same. But you didn’t push him away. You held him close.

And together, you cried for a difference between you both that could never be changed. No matter how similar you could be, how easily Monsters could meld into human society, you would always be fundamentally different. This proved it.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t try, though.

It took everything in him to stand again. Leaving from your embrace left him feeling so, so cold.

❤ ❤ ❤

Ten minutes later, the smile on your face helped the warmth resurface.

“An old family recipe,” he’d told you, chuckling at the way your nose crinkled.

“Tastes old, too.” You mumbled between sips of the glowing blue potion. With every swallow your skin grew clearer and clearer. Till all that remained was a permanent pink flush that stretched from chin to forehead.

“It’s once in a lifetime.” Grillby added, rotating the tiny bottle in his hands. “There’ll never be another like it made.”

“How long have you had it?” You asked, leaning into the palm he stroked along your newly healed flesh. He paused for a moment when you flinched. “Still a little tender, haha.”

The fire elemental closed his eyes, able to envision the day the mage first handed him the completed potion so clearly in his mind. “For a very, very long time.”

He tucked the vial away, his brow crinkling with worry as he gazed down the hallway, where the angry scorch marks of his earlier tantrum still waited. “I suppose we’ll…have to pay for the damages.”

“It’ll be a pretty penny,” you replied, following his gaze, “Maybe you’ll finally be able to convince Sans to pay his tab. Guilt trip him with the need for house repairs.”

A dry laugh bubbled in the back of his throat. Shakily, he took your hands, caressing the smooth skin with a gentleness he had not known he possessed for centuries. “I would understand…if you no longer wished…to remain with me, after this…”

The look you gave him was enough to speak for your opinion. Grillby breathed a sigh, melting into your touch as you cradled his face. He let out a pleased hum at the sensation of your lips, molding the kiss until your limbs were intertwined. So close, so warm.

Your SOUL fluttered against your ribcage, calling for his with so much love. It made him ache from tip-to-toe. You loved him, so dearly. And he loved you, even more. If this was any indicator, then Grillby could take a moment to believe: maybe SOULmates really did exist.

Or maybe you were just made for one another. Whatever the circumstances, he would follow you to the ends of the earth, as would you for him.

“I do not deserve you.” He admitted.

“Yes, you do.” You replied, “This is just something we’ll have to work on.”

“Then I will do my best…,” the fire elemental whispered, “For as long as you will allow me…to have the chance to make this up to you…I will do whatever it takes.”

“You’ve done more than enough already,” You giggled, brushing the hair back from your face. “But if you’re really offering…how about dinner? I was thinking that new place downtown—I think Sans just picked up a gig there, too.”

“Dinner…” You were a blessing. Out of anything he expected to come from this situation, a dinner invitation was the last thing on his list. Grillby laughed again, nuzzling his forehead against yours. “Dinner, I think I can do.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was such a fun, interesting prompt. i'm so happy i was able to write this piece, & for the support and patience of my lovely commissioner, matronofthevoid. :)
> 
> reviews & kudos are greatly appreciated !!
> 
> \- cinnabun


End file.
